Memories of Family
by Lumi the Bright This is the first time I've had pen and paper since Skarsind fell. It feels strange to be writing things down again – I have spent so long memorising stories and songs that paper and pen felt wasteful. I learned a lot about that in the Realm of Summer, though. About how our memories aren't always that reliable, that easy. Especially not when you sell them to a Herald, but that's a different story. As such, I am recording some of my memories from childhood so that they exist in a more… permanent manner. For posterity's sake, because she is now your Thane and very serious and important, I feel it's important to start by writing about the various amounts of chaos and trouble that Ardith got into when we were young. Although, actually, I'm not sure we have enough paper. Still! The best stories, only, then! Ardith and the Young Bear Now, the land of Star's Reach was humble, but set amidst glorious and beautiful forests in the heart of Estermark. The Hall itself was carved into the mountains, and it was those long stone corridors that made much of our playground, but the land spread down amidst those tall and ancient trees also – a tempting prospect for any would-be adventuring hero. Ardith was always such a child. I, of course, was entirely sensible and never once got myself into even the smallest spots of trouble, but through some bold coincidence most fortunate for story-telling happened to witness many of these adventures, and certainly was not complicit in encouraging them. Many an hour was spent finding the tallest firs to climb, or the deepest holes to hide in. On this particular occasion, however, we found rather more than we were expecting. From the outside, it was perfect. It was early spring, and the deep freeze had just began to thaw. The mountain paths were still too icy to ascend far, and the woods were blanketed thick with fluffy white snow. Our dear mother, Hannele, had made it very clear that we ought not be running around outside on our own lest we risk freezing our fingers off, but we were wrapped warm in thick leather and furs and our hearts were full of the immortality of childhood. It was no mean feat to sneak past the watchmen at the gates, and yet with a small distraction created by our younger sister and ever-accomplice, Iida, we crept out of the Hall and down into the trees, our laughter fogging our breath. Despite our enthusiasm, the forest's freezing touch soon gripped our bones – early morning light creeping through the trees brought us little warmth, and our boots were wet from crunching through the snow. Games of chase-and-hide kept us warm for only so long, and the trees were too cold to climb. We had only been venturing forth for an hour or so before it occurred to us that our courageous venture might have been somewhat lacking in wisdom. It would be a long walk home, and uphill, and neither of us were particularly keen for such a task. Still, we knew our absence would have been noted, and that hunters were likely following our zig-zagging tracks even as we pondered, and so it was that Ardith had an idea! 'Instead of taking the long walk alone and hungry,' she said, 'why don't we find a den to wait in, and let the hunters come to us? They'll have food and sticks to help with walking, and it'll be a much easier journey with them there too.' A grand idea, I thought! We could tell stories and throw stones and wait in peace until they came and scooped us up and took us home to the hearthfires. Immediately we set about the task of seeking an appropriate den – sheltered from the wind, dry enough that we could light a small fire, big enough for us both to crawl in... I had almost given up hope when I heard her call out: she had found one. Half cave, half earth, tucked beneath a fallen log. It faced away from the wind, and towards the sun, and was just tall enough for us to crawl inside. In we went – gallantly, young Ardith went first, clearing the way. Although the den was tall, it did not appear to be deep, and so we settled down side by side and began the process of laying down sticks and kindling for a fire. Exactly how long we waited, I couldn't say. The flames had caught, the sticks started to crackle, the sun stretching up to its zenith... We were both feeling terribly pleased with ourselves, when we heard the sound: A low, deep growl. Ardith looked at me. 'Lumi,' she said, 'was that you?' 'No sister,' I said. 'I may be hungry, but that wasn't me.' Then the growl came again – closer this time. The sound reverberated strangely around the rock, and yet I could have sworn it came from behind us. But there was nothing but rock behind us. Wasn't there? 'Lumi,' Ardith said. 'Did that rock just move?' We turned, as one, to face deeper into the den. And, lo and behold, the rock was moving – or what we had thought was rock. Thick black fur shifted under the firelight, and soon two shining eyes were watching us. The bear growled again. 'Well, shit,' Ardith said. As anyone who has ever fought a bear knows, there is little good in running. We knew that if we turned and simply tried to flee, it would outrun us and tear us down. We also knew that we couldn't fight it – the only weapons we carried were the small fruit knives we always had, and certainly nothing strong enough to break through a bear's hide. No, I won't lie – as we stared into those blank eyes, I thought we were very likely dead. We backed off, slowly as we could, keeping the fire between us and the growling bear. Despite its display of aggression, I realised quickly that it was quite small for a bear – likely youthful as us. It straightened, teeth bared, heavy paws flexing. Just as I was preparing to say my farewells, to promise to find my sister in the afterlife and to confess to once stealing her toffee, Ardith did something both very brave and very foolish. Quick as a cat, she reached her hand directly into the blazing fire, and snatched up one of the burning sticks! Leaping up with a brilliant battlecry, she swung her weapon at the bear, beating at its head. It let out a howl, falling back, clearly not having expected its small, squishy afternoon snack to be quite so flamey. Ardith didn't let up, striking over and over, overhead blows to its muzzle and hot stabs at its eyes. While it reeled, it had nowhere to flee to, and so even as I was trying to pull her back away, it struck. With one blow from its hefty forepaw, the stick was snapped in two. As the top of it tumbled to the ground, the flames quickly died in the snow at our feet, leaving Ardith holding nothing but a broken twig. Its maw opened, all foul breath and sharp teeth, lunging forward to bite off the hand that had caused it so much misery – and she thrust the stick forward into its mouth, pinning those ferocious jaws open. This time, we ran. Thundering between trees, we launched ourselves back in the direction of Star's Reach, and to my never-ending relief, we saw a small hunting party headed our way, our Uncle Eadmer at the head – and he certainly was surprised when we both started screaming 'bear!!' at the top of our lungs. Never a man to be caught unprepared by the antics of children, however, he drew his spear, drawing back before sending it sailing through the air, swift and true. The bear, still with its jaws propped open by Ardith's stick, took one look at the incoming spear and turned, fleeing back to its den. Eadmer scooped us up into his arms and carried us up and away. 'Your eyes,' he said, sounding urgent. 'What happened? Are you okay?' Ardith and I looked at each other, confused. 'Our eyes? Our eyes are fine. Ardith burnt her hand, though.' Eadmer peered at us both, frowning. 'Are you sure?' 'Yes, we're sure,' Ardith said. 'Why would there be something wrong with our eyes?' 'Because, my dear nieces,' Eadmer said. 'That was a badger.'